When Nothing Leads To Something & Everything
by McGonagall's Bola
Summary: Hermione encounters the Headmistress in a rather unanticipated state, which leads to something far more intimate... and further... and further... HG/MM -REWRITTEN!
1. Chapter 1

BETA READ by _FanFicLove101_

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Chapter 1

The wind passed by fleetingly, occasionally whooshing by in a breeze, and the sun happily shone, its rays meeting the soil and warming the green Scottish highlands where Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was located. On this particularly good weathered Saturday afternoon, most pupils had relocated themselves from their usual spots in their respective Common Rooms to having fun with house companions onto the green grass surrounding the Castle, enjoying an afternoon without any lessons and without being forced to remain inside because of the usually bad weather in Scotland. Some were having a battle of Wizard's chess. Others were reading non-educational books. And some even hid in lesser used corridors to steal a few heated kisses from their beloveds. On this beautiful Saturday afternoon, no pupil actually thought about finishing assignments, even though the due time might have been close. No pupil even considered reading a chapter ahead. Some professors of course required that their pupils read the pages accompanying their lessons as homework. Professor Binns for instance was not that type of professor and had the tendency to give little to no homework. However, when he choose to do so, he always made up for this with the work load being heavy and testing. On the other hand, he usually announced these things quite in time. Like yesterday, he had asked a paper of two feet about the Founders to be due in two weeks. For most seventh year pupils that meant time enough to scribble something down on parchment – enlarging their handwriting quite a bit while doing so – a day or two before it was to be handed in.

It didn't for Hermione Granger, though. While others pondered about how to fill two feet of parchment with the most known facts, Hermione Granger wondered how anyone would ever be able to contain all essential matters in only two feet. She thought it unreasonable of Professor Binns to give such as a guideline – especially for pupils in their seventh year, who were taking N.E.W.T.S. in just a few months' time! No, she would integrate the most necessary facts – the ones which she deemed essential – of all the books that said something about the Founders in the paper and see about possible shortening later…

So Hermione left the library with her whole school bag packed with books of which she thought were the most necessary, and the less necessary but seemingly interesting and valuable regardless of that fact she carried in a pile in her arms. She could barely see anything over the book lying on top and was forced to depend on her recollections about the corridors and stairs she had gathered over the years to reach the Common Room, where she would be able to work in all calm for once. Even Ginny was by the lake not doing anything productive at all with Luna… Oh, they had asked her to come… but she had said no, like any other responsible seventh year should have done.

She uneasily continued in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, the weight of the pile of books in her arms slowing her down immensely. Upon reaching the top of the stairs to the fifth floor, Hermione barely saw a familiar tall figure leaning against the wall nearby, which she easily recognized as the woman that had once been her Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House and had lead the rebuilding of the school, of which she now was the Headmistress. Hermione's eyebrow quirked, wondering what the Headmistress might be doing there. She was usually to be found in her office all day, with exception of meal times with the pupils and staff in the Great Hall.

"Professor?" She whispered. Professor McGonagall's eyes were closed and her face contorted in something, Hermione noticed, that resembled pain quite a lot, upon nearing.

Professor McGonagall's reaction told Hermione that she hadn't heard her approach. Maybe she hadn't really expected to run into any pupils at all with the rare good weather causing the majority to take the rare opportunity and move beyond the confines of the castle? She immediately froze upon hearing the younger witch's voice, not having anticipated to be caught in that position. The elder woman left the support of the wall and forced her eyes open to look at her former pupil. "Miss Granger," she acknowledged, one hand secretly having come to rest on her lower back to support it.

Hermione's earlier lines of worry grew deeper upon hearing how uncharacteristically weak her professor sounded. She hadn't missed the move of the elder woman's hand either, no matter how subtle it had been. "Professor, are you…?" She began, trying awkwardly to balance the pile of books on one arm and searching about in her robe pocket for her wand. It took a few long seconds until her fingers finally wrapped around the thin wooden object, and she managed to retrieve her wand and levitate the pile of books. The relief was immense. Why hadn't she thought about this before?

Hermione kept the pile of books levitated while eyeing her professor up and down slowly. She intuitively neared her Professor, as she momentarily appeared to sway on her feet and winced almost inaudibly. The younger witch had still heard it, though. Professor McGonagall slowly stretched her hand to keep the other woman at a distance, but the motion was shaky. "I'm fine, Miss Granger," she said.

"Professor," Hermione replied, rather unsurprised to have gotten the reply she had, "with all due respect… You don't look very fine," she said.

"For Merlin's sodden sake, I'm fine!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, gasping with the effort it had taken to maintain her usual final tone. The books Hermione had been levitating fell to the flagstones with a thud as she reached for the wall again with one hand, while keeping the other firmly cradling her lower back. She was now inhaling and exhaling rather heavily. Hermione didn't fail to notice this. Minerva internally winced as that realization dawned upon her as well. She hated to be looked at as weak. She hated to show herself in this situation and most particularly… to a pupil. "I'm sorry," she said somewhat softer upon taking in Hermione's shocked expression. "I didn't mean to raise my voice against you. I know you must mean well, but…"

"Would you like me to accompany you to your rooms?" Hermione suggested calmly, swallowing her momentary shock away.

Minerva's eyes closed for a second, in which she nodded. The elder woman's eyes were watery when she opened them again. She easily waved her wand at the pile of books that had fallen down on the flagstones partially due to her fault and Hermione's bag, banishing all to her bedroom in Gryffindor Tower. Hermione's mouth opened in question. "Your bedroom," Minerva replied, watching Hermione's slight nod and allowing her to accompany the elder woman to the Headmistress Tower – a trip that effectively took twice as long as was usual for the Headmistress alone in normal circumstances.

"Professor…?" Hermione began, watching worriedly as her usually authoritarian Head of House settled better on her couch under a wince. She quietly eyed the older woman conjure what appeared to be a large heat pad and carefully tucked it between her lower back and the couch in which she sat. That gave the younger witch an idea of what could have caused her to encounter Minerva the way she had. Back pain wasn't something insurmountable – especially not as a woman.

"I'll be fine," Minerva McGonagall said. "I'll be fine again in the morning."

Hermione looked skeptical for a second, then nodded. "I… I'll leave you alone now…" she said, and made for the door.

"Miss Granger?" Hermione came to a halt and turned. "Thank you… for accompanying me here," Minerva whispered, her natural Scottish lilt affecting her tone more than usual for no obvious reason. "I just…" She then shook her head in a very 'never mind' fashion and sighed, casting her eyes downward while leaning her head in one hand.

Hermione merely nodded. "You're welcome, Professor. Is there… anything else I could do for you?" Minerva slowly looked up again and eyed the younger witch as if truly pondering how to answer instead of immediately shaking her head and denying. Eventually, she decided on slowly shaking her head. "Are you sure?" Hermione asked, not having failed to notice the professor's hesitation. "I mean... maybe I could massage..." Hermione fell silent, realizing her mistake just as the words left her mouth. By pure force of will, she didn't reach up with one hand to clasp it over her mouth.

Minerva looked at her intently, eyebrow quirked. "I'll be fine, Miss Granger. I can assure you that this isn't the first time that I have got a little back pain, nor will it be the last either." Hermione merely nodded. "I'm an old woman," Minerva elucidated. "I'm fairly used to it. It'll already be less painful come morning, and I'll be entirely fine again in a couple of days." That last bit was accompanied by a wince and Minerva uncomfortably resettling in the couch. "Thank you for the offer, though."

"You're not old," Hermione whispered, somewhat taken aback that Professor McGonagall had just shared that bit of personal information with her without her having to ask after it in any way.

"Yes, I am," Minerva countered. "And a lot more things that I once upon a time wasn't. I'm not young like you anymore." Hermione snorted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione had been so absorbed reading through the list of questions she had noted down to ask Professor Perette concerning the paper on Transfiguration that was due next Wednesday, that she felt rather surprised to have reached the staff room already. The fact that it was a lovely Sunday afternoon and the weather appeared unusually good for the second day in row didn't keep her off working. After having worked until after midnight to finally finish the paper for Professor Binns – sooner than she would have estimated when beginning to work – Hermione had thought it fitting to continue with the next assignment. She, however, had encountered some little issues doing so and had written the most essential questions down on a piece of parchment and had resolved to ask the professor about them. Professor Perette hadn't seemed to have been in her classroom nor office, though. Thus Hermione had nearly automatically made for the staff room, taking her very last chance to get answers that day.

She naturally raised her hand to knock, just when the door was thrown open and revealed the tall, slender figure of the Headmistress. "Miss Granger!" Minerva exclaimed, one hand reaching for her chest at the shock of nearly running into her pupil. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," Hermione greeted. "I was actually looking for Professor Perette. I have tried her office and then the Transfigurations classroom, but she didn't appear to be there, and so I thought I would come by to see if maybe she was in the staff room. I have got a number of questions about the paper that's due next Wednesday."

Minerva's eyebrow quirked. She nodded. "Well, I'm afraid Professor Perette won't be at Hogwarts until tonight. She usually goes home to be with her family at the weekends."

"Oh," Hermione managed. "I'll…" She momentarily shook her head, then turned, purposefully walking slow so that she and McGonagall would be walking together. So both women made their way up the stairs together in silence, neither of them feeling either comfortable or uncomfortable with the silence lingering between them, yet choosing not to break it unless necessary. Hermione thus took the opportunity to watch Professor McGonagall a little bit closer and noticed the ever increasing difficulty she was finding from one staircase to the next. She leaned upon the rails more heavily with each flight of stairs, and even though it was rather obvious Minerva tried to hide the pain as much as possible, Hermione could still see how labored the elder woman's breathing became. The necessity to finally break the silence arose when instead of turning to the left at the top of the seventh floor staircase, Hermione turned right to accompany the Headmistress to her office again, much like the day before.

"There's no need to accompany me again. I'm sure you have got other things to do, which are undoubtedly of more importance."

Hermione shrugged. "I'm kind of stuck with the paper, and since Professor Perette isn't at Hogwarts to ask her about it… I have already finished the rest of my assignments, and I don't feel like going and basking in the sun like the others – that's not my kind of thing. Are you feeling better than yesterday?"

"I am," Minerva replied, her voice unusually soft. Hermione suspected that maybe she wasn't being truthful, but she didn't say anything. They fell in a silence again, that lasted until both women reached the gargoyles guarding the moving winding staircase to the circular Headmistress office. "Ginger Newt," Minerva called, watching as the gargoyles politely nodded at her and moved aside to let her through. She briefly looked aside and quirked her eyebrow at Hermione, but didn't say anything. The silence continued just the same as Hermione stepped onto the spiral staircase after Minerva and allowed herself to be lead to and through the dark oaken door to the office.

Hermione quietly waited until the door fell closed behind her and Minerva finally turned to face her again. She sighed. "I don't believe you're any better than yesterday. You…"

"Miss Granger, I think I still know my own body best!" Minerva countered, her voice raising to the kind of tone she usually kept for the most annoying pupils. She didn't need the hiss of Albus to know she had made quite a mistake; the expression of the younger Gryffindor before her told her quite enough. Minerva clasped one hand over her eyes, rubbing them, then lowered it again to her back. What was the point of hiding it any longer? She couldn't seem to hide anything from the pupil after all. She fleetingly eyed her former best companion in his frame, looking worried and saddened. Minerva let out a shaky breath and stepped closer to her pupil, who had lowered her head by now. Minerva thus reached for Hermione's face, bringing it upward until teal green met hazel. The slight move caused a tear to run down from the younger Gryffindor's eye over her cheek, gaining pace until reaching her jaw line and then slowing to linger for a bit then falling onto the collar of her shirt. Another tear followed suit, originating in the girl's other eye. This one, however, did not get the chance to run its course down Hermione's other cheek, for Minerva caught it with her thumb, with a tenderness few people would ever associate with the stern Headmistress. "I apologize – again," Minerva whispered and sighed before admitting, "I shouldn't get mad at you for telling the truth." She wiped another stray tear off Hermione's cheek with the back of her fingers, letting it linger a bit longer than necessary. "I don't know why I…" Minerva fell silent at the lie beginning to make its way past her lips. Of course she did know why.

Minerva, who had little to no recollection of her mother and her younger sister Metheora, had been raised by her father, who had worked very hard to give his daughters everything. They hadn't been very wealthy, but he had made sure to give his little girls everything they needed – to give them enough money for new school robes, books and other necessities. He was often away from home and already at a rather young age Minerva had been forced to be independent and take care of not only herself but her younger sister as well. And then in the war with Grindelwald, Gideon McGonagall had gotten killed, together with his youngest daughter while in transit to the safety of the Ministry whilst he and his eldest daughter fought. Minerva had only just finished her Auror training and had been sent on another raid. She had heard the news upon arriving back at the Ministry; her robes torn in several places, her hair extremely disheveled, the edges of her customary plait burnt and her entire body covered with several cuts and bruises. They had been attacked by a group of Grindelwald's followers. They had never stood a chance. Her father, who had then been Head Auror and her sister had never gotten a reasonable burial in the commotion of the fight. Dumbledore had taken over the lead of the Aurors and had brought the great Grindelwald down on his knees a week after. Minerva had gotten a medal for all her father had done for the British Wizarding Community and his bravery in the battle, together with a good sum of money as some kind of repayment for all she'd lost. It didn't actually bring her father or sister back, nor did it aid her in building up the home in which she had once lived happily. She had rebuilt it alone and resigned at the Ministry at once. She had always been proud of her father; maybe then more than ever.

She hadn't been able to live like that. She just hadn't been strong enough to go on with it anymore after the battle and had lived in Paris as a Muggle for a while – working first in a library, which had helped her to master the language after a while by reading through books when she had some time and teaching herself, and then as a governess.

After six years in Paris, Minerva had gotten married to a man who had cheated on her nearly since the beginning of their two year relationship, lost his unborn child in a miscarriage in the commotion of their divorce (which Minerva had requested two days after she had finally discovered all about her husband's cheating, and which was finalized within a month), had gotten engaged again to another man less than a year after she had last seen her ex spouse and had called off the wedding last minute, having realized what she was actually doing: she was throwing herself desperately in the arms of people who only even seemed to like her, hoping for some happiness.

Albus Dumbledore had come to the rescue. Rather surprisingly, he had showed up on her doorstep asking if she was maybe interested in teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts when Armando Dippet had resigned as a Headmaster. She had thought maybe that was something for her and had agreed without much thinking, never even saying goodbye to her ex fiancé.

She had devoted herself to teaching, trying to gain as much happiness from it as possible. Albus, her former Transfiguration teacher, and she had become colleagues and close companions through the years. He was right there for her – unconditionally. He offered a listening ear and a good hug when needed. She rarely made use of it, but it was enough to keep her upright and going. A part of her secretly hoped for some happiness through the first years, but the last two decades, it had been exchanged with regret for never having found it.

Of course she knew why she reacted just the way that she did, toward Hermione. She knew from experience that she had a weak spot for anyone who even appeared to care about her, which had never ended up good in the past and thus certainly wouldn't in the future either.

She had usually been the one taking care of others. Minerva wasn't used to being taken care of or even worried about, but that didn't mean that the thought of allowing another to do so wasn't very tempting. She had worked years to perfect her façade: a layer of strictness and rare smiles that hid her dreams and hopes, wishes and deep desires from view… but it didn't make it any easier to bear it every second in which she wasn't alone.

Maybe she wasn't worthy of being worried about in the first place. She was nothing but damaged, old goods. The whole situation with Voldemort, which had actually cost Minerva her best companion's life, brought up the memories of the time with and losses due to Grindelwald. The war might have been over, but the memories and pain weren't. Minerva even doubted if they ever could. With Albus, the last person she ever had trusted, even though he truly hadn't been more but her best companion, had died… like all the others. She would not allow her guards to go down with another and wait until another villain came by and took away the one she had gotten attached to that time. Letting her guard down was something hard and difficult to begin with. It just wasn't worth it. She would not once again throw herself in the arms of another, grow attached and then die a little more again when it ended either by another war or by inequality between her and her lover. Inequality was something that was almost sure to be involved between a teacher and a pupil – a relationship which was plain wrong in every way to begin with.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Minerva McGonagall sighed, the hand upon her back momentarily tightening as another spasm announced itself. She leaned heavily upon her desk with the other, even that little move causing her to gasp and wince. The Headmistress' teal green eyes tightly closed, and she bit down on her bottom lip to stifle what Hermione assumed would have been a groan induced by pain. She was at the elder woman's side in no time, one hand naturally coming down to her painful lower back. McGonagall gasped once again as the younger witch's hand came to rest upon the tender area; she wasn't really used to any pupils ever touching her in any way – a handshake when seventh years left school after their education at Hogwarts was about the maximum. She, however, couldn't get herself to push the hand away – especially not when it slowly began massaging. She didn't say a word as Hermione's other hand carefully pushed aside hers and guided her to turn around against the desk so that she could lean upon it better. McGonagall couldn't do anything but bend over just a little as Hermione's left hand joined its mate at the elder woman's lower back; her thumbs made loving circles on either side of her spine, alternating between soft and hard, bigger and smaller circles. To have the rather painful area massaged made Minerva McGonagall vulnerable. It felt so good, to feel the carefulness with which Hermione sincerely tried to make the elder woman feel better.

Minutes ticked by in which Hermione's thumbs began moving lower, in the direction of where the most painful area was. Upon reaching that, Minerva, however, gasped and jerked away, trembling slightly. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you…" Hermione whispered, tearing up. "I should have been more careful…"

Minerva's head shook. "No. It isn't your responsibility."

"I hate to see you in pain," Hermione admitted, barely audible.

"Why?" It escaped at once. It surprised even Minerva herself. She was known for her very good self-composure. Anything escaping her mouth without her having thought about it very carefully was something that did happen rarely. Albus Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes twinkled madly in his frame. That was quite visible even through the canvas.

"I don't really like y– anyone hurting," Hermione corrected and swallowed. Sweat easily formed on her forehead, and her cheeks became flushed as the fear of having slipped too much overcame her. She had nearly said it, and Minerva McGonagall wasn't really supposed to know. She wasn't really supposed to know just how Hermione's younger heart ached watching the Headmistress wander about the castle purposelessly and defeated. Of course, the elder Transfiguration Professor had been widely known ever since the beginning of her teaching career as a female who was rather strict and didn't tolerate nonsense. Maybe the reason for that could be found in the subject she taught, too: Transfiguration was something very peculiar and dangerous. Transfigurations could easily go amiss and have serious consequences. The thought of someone unsuccessfully turning into an Animagus and being stuck between animal and human being for the rest of a lifetime came to mind. A case like that had occurred when Minerva was being trained to become an Animagus herself. Poor male had had to live with wings attached to his shoulders and feathers in the most impossible places. His nails and nose had resembled the features of an eagle quite a bit for the rest of his life – which hadn't lasted long. He had lived slightly longer than an eagle would have, but less long than a human.

Minerva carefully turned to face the younger witch, one hand naturally going to her still aching lower back. Both women's eyes met, hazel connecting with teal green. "Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey and ask her for something. It won't take away the cause, but it'll at least settle the pain for a while."

"I'll be fine. Madam Pomfrey's pain relief potions barely have any effect on me anymore," she admitted.

Hermione quietly nodded, while allowing some silence between them. "I wish that you would allow me to…" She quietly shook her head, reminding herself of whom she was actually talking to. One didn't ask the Headmistress to undress and allow one of her pupils to massage away the pain in her lower back…

"To what, Miss Granger?" Minerva's teal green eyes bore into Hermione's hazel ones. Hermione's head shook once more, tears filling her eyes. Minerva's eyes grew rather worried. "Miss Granger?" She repeated, carefully putting her hand upon the younger witch's shoulder, cautiously squeezing. "Are you all right?" She asked.

Hermione's head lowered. "I just…" she began. "I just hate to see you in pain, when maybe I could do something about it."

Minerva's eyebrow quirked as she slowly took in that information and let her mind mull with it for a little while, finally getting the reason for Hermione's unusual concern if she hadn't already. She sighed, retrieving her hand again. "I'll be fine, Miss Granger. I'm used to this by now. You learn that when getting older, but… if it makes you feel better, I'll–" "It would be better if I wasn't bothered with all those layers," Hermione said, pointing at Minerva's attires.

_…ask Madam Pomfrey for something after dinner. _Minerva's eyes grew wide at Hermione's misinterpretation. She couldn't really have thought that Minerva McGonagall was going to say something else, could she? She couldn't really have thought that Minerva was going to suggest she continue massaging her. On the other hand, she couldn't deny that the massage had felt very nice and certainly would make the pain more bearable. However, had the younger witch just hinted she take off her attires? Minerva's head shook in denial both to herself and Hermione, but Hermione had already neared her again and had reached over to rub little circles upon Minerva's painful lower back. Minerva's eyes shut in a mixture of relief and pain and… and delight. She couldn't do this, yet she couldn't fight against the hand caressing her…

"Would you like to go into your bedroom?" Hermione asked. Minerva's eyes flew open again, head turning pointedly toward Hermione, making something in her neck snap and causing Minerva's hand to flow up and rub the area where she'd just felt it snap as some instinctive immediate reaction. "It is quite safe to imagine you would feel more comfortable there," she added, seeing Minerva's bewildered look.

"Uhm Hermione, I don't believe that…"

"Minerva," Hermione whispered, now addressing the woman by first name as if she wasn't Headmistress of Hogwarts or former Transfiguration Professor. Minerva's eyes grew wide at hearing it. The majority of pupils still called her 'Professor McGonagall' even after leaving Hogwarts, and now there was this girl who still was a pupil there, calling the Headmistress by her given name, and admitting even though tenuously to wanting to touch her naked body… This very beautiful and attractive girl who… _Stop it!_

Minerva winced, the motion of turning back her head more painful than she would have anticipated, and suddenly Hermione's offer to rub all her pain away was even harder to deny than earlier… The urge to give in became stronger… and won over rational sense. Hermione's hand had felt so unbelievably nice upon her lower back… Giving in was what she did. Minerva pointedly turned her gaze toward two dark oaken doors on her left. "Second one," she whispered.

She knew rather than saw the younger witch nodding, feeling Hermione's warm hand upon hers and feeling herself slowly being dragged toward the door which she had just indicated.

"Lie down," Hermione suggested, once the door closed after their passing, and her eyes remained upon her pupil as she obeyed, slowly but surely sitting down on the edge of the bed and lying down on her side with her back facing Hermione before rolling over on her tummy. Pain could make one do odd things which no one would ever be able to imagine without seeing them. One such thing was certainly Minerva McGonagall obeying anyone else but Albus without arguing or even a look of disapproval and then in particular a pupil of hers. Albus wasn't there anymore, though. "Good," Hermione whispered, sitting herself down on the edge of the bed and reaching for the fastenings of Minerva's robes.

Why did I agree to this again? Minerva wondered, feeling the buttons pop open and the material of her robes loosen only more. The breeze of wind coming through the window and making its way through the bedroom hit the bare skin of Minerva's back, and she couldn't contain the chill of cold running down her spine, her fingers tightening around the edges of the pillow in which she had buried her head since Hermione had begun unbuttoning her attires. Why? Why? Hermione was an ex pupil of hers, still being educated at Hogwarts, where she was the Headmistress! Didn't that say enough already? She intuitively let go of the pillow and moved her hands to lie flat beside her head, so that she could push herself upright, and… but then Hermione's warm hand came down on her lower back, and all was lost.

It took nearly all of Hermione's willpower not to lean down and run her lips along the length of the elder witch's spine, feeling and tasting the milky white, silken skin. "Do you have massage oil?" Hermione asked.

Minerva leaned up on one hand, shrugging her wand from her sleeve and waving it once, then lying it aside on the bedside table. Hermione only barely caught the little blue bottle. "Could you uhm…?" Minerva quietly turned her head, eyebrow quirked. "I don't wanna stain your robes," she said.

"Oh," was all Minerva could say, realizing what her pupil meant. She nodded, leaning up and uneasily shrugging the material a bit further down her shoulders and arms. She again curled her fingers around the edges of the pillow and buried her head in it, her breathing faster than usual in anticipation of Hermione's touch.

Hermione carefully put the bottle of massage oil onto the bedside table, rubbing the amount of liquid together between her hands to warm it a bit and then…

Minerva gasped as Hermione's hands came into contact with her bare skin, burying her head into the pillow more to hide any more gasps that might follow, or moans. Minerva had learned through the years how sensitive that her lower back was and how much of an erogenous zone it could be especially while foreplay lasted. These weren't really the right thoughts to have right then.

Hermione carefully began massaging the elder witch's shoulders, kneading them. This position really wasn't very comfortable for her, but she couldn't… could she? However, the longer she remained, the more that position began to hurt. Eventually, to be able to continue massaging Minerva instead of soon needing to desist because of the pain it caused upon her to have her body turned like that, Hermione sat up on her knees and threw one leg over Minerva's body to straddle her. That was much better. Of course she didn't lower herself. Her weight upon the elder witch would only harm Minerva more, and she wanted to really make her feel somewhat better, not worse.

Minerva's eyes fluttered shut feeling the mattress sink on both sides of her and Hermione's warm hands trail lower. If only she wasn't lying on her back, this position would have been very inappropriate… if it wasn't already.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Are you getting ill?" Ginny questioned, watching the Head Girl opposite her settle with one spoon of casserole.

"Oh?" Hermione said, leaving the whirl of thoughts in her head to look at the red haired Gryffindor watching her with concern. "No, I'm fine," she said, her eyes involuntarily sweeping across the Head Table and noticing Minerva seemingly in deep conversation with the school's nurse, Madame Poppy Pomfrey. She mentally cursed herself for referring to the Headmistress by her given name, even if only in her head. Minerva McGonagall had been the one to look up to, for nearly eight years. She had been the one getting all of Hermione's respect and admiration; had been the one giving her cub advice when she desperately sought it. Ever since having seen her dear professor in such unbearable pain that one Sunday afternoon, something appeared to have changed about the way Hermione felt toward the elder witch. An irrational need to assure the Headmistress' wellbeing and be with her whenever possible had announced itself, leaving Hermione to wonder what exactly could have encouraged that feeling. After Sunday afternoon, Hermione had been convinced that these feelings must have been there for years; since… since forever. Minerva McGonagall was often seen as cold and faraway. Hermione having caught her like that, having seen her so human and vulnerable, must have caused a flash of… emotion, by lack of any better word, in which Minerva suddenly hadn't appeared so far away anymore and in which Hermione had felt unbelievably close to her. That wasn't so odd considering how Minerva McGonagall usually liked her independence.

Thursday afternoon, and Hermione couldn't put aside what had occurred Sunday, when Minerva's pain had gotten so bad that she had allowed her pupil to try and take care of it, which she had happily done for about half an hour until she couldn't continue anymore. The feel of Minerva's silken skin underneath her fingers had caused innumerous thoughts of passion to invade her mind, and only by pure force of will had she been able to fight against the images of Minerva underneath her when… and Minerva's skin feeling so… Hermione swallowed, turning her gaze down to her food again. She failed to notice the look of concern Ginny gave her. What was going on, she couldn't rightly say, but… if the Head Girl wasn't terribly mistaken… she had irrevocably fallen for the Headmistress. Sunday afternoon had given her the final evidence. After half an hour of Minerva's silken skin underneath her fingers and her little cries of pain having turned into moans that could be interpreted for joy and being uncomfortable as well, she hadn't really been so good at fighting against the images wanting to be seen in her head anymore. Every little sound Minerva had made would go straight down to her core, every inch of her being longing to hear the very same sounds in another context, but with the same characters. She had felt her pussy throbbing with desire, her panties nothing less but soaked. When she had caught her fingers massaging dangerously near the sides of Minerva's cleavage – pushed flat against the mattress – she had fully known that the massage had to stop, before she did something stupid like leaning down to let her lips feel the softness of Minerva's skin as well, like Hermione had wanted to so much. The thought of it caused Hermione to rub her thighs together uncomfortably again. The mere thought of feeling Minerva already made her wetter than she ever would dare to admit.

"Hermione? What's the matter?" Ginny questioned, once the Head Girl opposite her finally directed her gaze upward. "Tell me. Please. Something's bothering you and has been for a couple of days. What is it?"

Hermione's head shook. "I'm fine. I'm only exhausted."

"Have you been having enough sleep?"

_No, I haven't. I haven't been able to get any at all, because I continue imagining what it would be like to have our Headmistress in my bed and do other things but sleep beside her. _"I suppose I could do with more; maybe I should go to bed early today."

Ginny nodded, getting up. "Good idea. We better head off now, though, or we'll be late for double Potions. Slughorn won't really mind, but…"

Hermione nodded, agreeing. She neatly pushed her untouched casserole aside and stood, too. "Yeah." From the corners of her eyes, she could see the flurry of robes as Minerva McGonagall stood to leave the Great Hall, appearing upset. Hermione rapidly turned her head to look, wincing as she felt something little snap in her neck by the rapidness of the move, but Minerva had disappeared already. She immediately felt the irrational urge to go after her and make sure the Headmistress was alright, but pushed aside the thought for now. Double Potions waited. She would go by and make sure Minerva – Professor McGonagall! – was all well later.

Later came sooner than she would have anticipated, though…

"I'm so glad that you were there to aid me with Flitwick's essay. I never would have been able to…"

"Crap!" Hermione exclaimed, causing the red haired girl walking beside her to halt and look at her curiously. Hermione's right hand flew to her forehead. "I ran over it all yesterday night in the Common Room again, and I left it there, on the table by the fireplace… I knew I had forgotten something this morning! I'll see you at Charms!" Hermione said, already running in the direction of Gryffindor Tower and leaving Ginny to stare after her bewildered. It wasn't anything like Hermione to forget things and certainly not something as essential as essays to be handed in that day. She sighed, slowly continuing her way to Charms alone. She had tried talking to Hermione quite a few times, but Hermione had usually passed everything off as nothing. She really hoped Hermione would tell her soon what was going on and if not, that whatever actually was going on would be solved soon.

Hermione was panting heavily by the time that she reached and burst into the Common Room, immediately going for the table which she had occupied the night earlier. Indeed, her finished essay for Charms was still lying there. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth for no one appeared to have taken it. She easily gathered it and turned on her heel to leave the Common Room again; maybe if she ran, she could still be on time. A rather familiar looking creature sitting in the window, seemingly shivering, caught her eye as she did, though. The essay for Charms dropped to the carpet, as Hermione's hand came up to cover her open mouth in shock as she suddenly recognized the markings surrounding the grey tabby cat's eyes. This wasn't a cat in the sense of the word.

Hermione rapidly moved toward the window to open it, gathering the cat in her arms and shutting the window tightly again with one hand. "You're all wet and cold!" Hermione exclaimed, yet tightened her hold on the feline in her arms. "What were you doing there?" She asked, concern lacing her question, as she slowly sat down on the armchair near the fireplace and settled the cat that Minerva was upon her lap carefully. Minerva quietly eyed her pupil for a little while, then lifted her paw and hoped Hermione would get what she was trying to say. She nodded. "Am I right to assume you have gotten hurt in your Animagus, and therefore you couldn't return to your quarters?" The cat upon Hermione's lap nodded quite humanly. "Could you change back? I mean, I get why that you haven't been able to try change back until now…" Minerva's head lowered, and she slowly shook her feline head.

"Alright," Hermione said, getting up with the cat in her arms, no longer worried about the essay or totally missing Charms lesson. "That's alright. I'll carry you to your rooms and then call for Madame Pomfrey." Minerva quietly cuddled further into the younger witch's arms, enjoying the feel of warmth far too much after that biting cold in which she had been as a cat to argue… at least for the time being.

Hermione fortunately didn't say anything more as she slowly carried the Headmistress to her personal quarters, naturally using the password to enter them and walking further into her bedroom without really pondering about it, leaving the lot of former Headmasters and Headmistresses gawping after them both.

Once Hermione had reached the bed, she slowly reached up to detach Minerva, but she intuitively tightened her hold upon Hermione's arm, her curled nails sinking through the thin school robe which she wore, not ready to or wanting to let go yet. Hermione bit down on her bottom lip trying not to wince audibly. "Shh," she whispered, lying down on the bed with the cat Minerva necessarily was for the time being still in her arms. "I'll stay if you would like me to," she reassured, allowing Minerva to settle on her tummy and feeling her shiver as she calmly stroked her fur.

"Do I have to go and get Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione questioned. Minerva's head shook at once. "Alright then." Hermione vaguely recalled how the Headmistress and the nurse had been in a conversation until Minerva had suddenly left the Great Hall appearing rather upset. "Are you still cold?" Hermione questioned, "Or are you in pain?" Minerva's big, yellow eyes connected with Hermione's hazel ones. "Both?" Minerva quietly shut her eyes and nodded.

"Alright," Hermione whispered, as she let go of the grey silken fur and carefully avoiding to hurt the cat in her lap reached down to tear a thin strip of fabric off her impeccable school robes. The cat's ears momentarily pointed up and directed toward the sound of ripping attires. She calmed down upon seeing Hermione hold up the thin strip. "I'm going to tie this around your paw for now. It'll give it some support and thus make it hurt less," she said. Minerva the cat slowly raised her paw in cooperation and allowed her pupil to carefully wrap it, doing all in her power not to give in to the more natural reaction to pull away.

Satisfied with the bandage, Hermione slowly laid back into the bed, calmly stroking Minerva's grey fur. "You have been there in the cold and rain too long," Hermione stated. "You still feel very cold. I'm afraid sharing body heat will be the only solution, but yeah…" She quietly bit down on her bottom lip and slowly began pulling the duvet loose and over their bodies instead. The warmth and comfort of the duvet encompassing them soon caused them both to fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hermione's eyelids quivered, and her eyes slid open. This wasn't her bedroom. A few moonbeams battling their way into the bedroom through the open curtains were the only illumination; night must have fallen already. She slowly moved to rise, when she soon found she was somehow unable to. The recollection of what had occurred after she had run up to the Common Room to get her finished essay for Charms came back to her. She had never made it to Charms, nor to dinner in the Great Hall or her Common Room again. Ginny was very likely worried sick by now. She quietly moved her hand, finding no fur underneath, but instead the familiar velvety robes of the human Minerva McGonagall. The weight upon her was far more than a cat's, too. Minerva was lying there so peacefully, being nothing but beautiful… She so desperately wanted to reach down for the lock of graying hair that had fallen across her forehead, wanting to push it aside carefully, and she only caught herself the very last inch, slowly retracting her hand. She sighed and uneasily shifted her legs, hoping not to disturb the Headmistress' much needed sleep as she felt how much needed a visit to the bathroom was.

The Headmistress began shifting on her own then, gasping as she allowed her eyes to open and realized that she wasn't alone there, and then how all her weight was upon Hermione. Her ability to see well at night was a treat of her Animagus shape that had gotten through to her human figure, which could be considered odd since she usually wore squared eyeglasses at daytime. She nearly saw better at night. Minerva's heart raced as she definitely recognized the bedroom as her own and the pupil sharing her bed as Hermione Grangers, one of her cubs… She rapidly rose up, moving to use her hand for support, when she was painfully reminded of the reason that had brought them there. "Shh easy…" Hermione whispered, as Minerva tightly winced and uneasily scrambled aside off of Hermione, pulling the sheet with her. A sigh of relief nearly escaped her upon seeing them both still fully clothed. _Of course we are fully clothed_, Minerva told herself immediately after that thought had crossed her mind. _Why would either one not have been?_

Minerva's uninjured hand flew up to her forehead as she slowly allowed herself to relax again into the bed, and her eyes momentarily fell shut as the recollection of what had occurred came back to her, too. Nothing had happened. That was one very big relief… only leaving them with a few other issues. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday," Minerva said, barely audible. "I'll be having a word with Filius tomorrow about you missing his lesson," she reassured. "I'm sorry."

"How…?" Hermione began, lying down on her back as well and rolling her head to look at Minerva. She then bit her lip, somehow supposing that she wouldn't actually get a reply. The younger Head Girl thus was rather surprised when she got one either way. It wasn't very like Minerva McGonagall.

"Poppy vaguely noticed my back being less stiff today than usual. She was far too curious, and I didn't like that very much, so… I did what I sometimes do when getting upset: I turned into a cat, and…" She couldn't continue anymore. She had already allowed too much to slip. She had never even told anyone else about this, even though she sometimes thought Albus must have at least suspected something.

Hermione nodded. "How long had you been there on the window sill?"

Minerva sighed. "I cannot say for sure, but quite a while."

Hermione nodded. "I fear that you might have broken something, thus a visit to Madame Pomfrey is going to be hard to avoid in the end."

"I know, but please wait until daytime."

Then something happened that neither women ever would have anticipated: Minerva McGonagall entirely broke down in tears, unable to find the strength to gather herself for hours; unable even to find what actually might have triggered it. It somehow scared her somewhat, that she even appeared unable to hold her fortress any longer in the company of Hermione Granger. She rarely allowed herself to collapse just like that, even when she was alone.

No matter how hard she tried, and how ashamed she felt to do that, she couldn't keep her composure and began jerking with sobs. Hermione's eyes grew wide at the sight of the Headmistress like that, no idea what she would have to do right now. So she chose to follow what her intuition told her and guided Minerva's head onto her lap and her arms around the crying woman, wishing she wouldn't cry with soon enough. "Shh… Everything's going to be alright…" Hermione whispered, even though she internally wasn't so sure of that, while witnessing the powerful witch in her lap reduced to sobbing shreds.

Hermione carefully held the older witch close to her, stroking her hair by intuition more than anything else. Right then, if she hadn't really known until then, Minerva knew she must have fallen in love. She had actually fallen for multiple women in her life, but never had she been woman enough to tell any of them, afraid to be rejected by them and others… for being in love with one of the very same gender was unusual and maybe abnormal. Helga Hufflepuff had been a lesbian and had been one of the Founders of Hogwarts nonetheless, yet it didn't change the fact that Minerva's fear remained no matter what. Minerva had learned through the years that no one could ever be loved by everyone, yet this particular matter was something entirely else than teaching methods and being strict or making enemies through wars. She feverishly longed for the younger witch's loving and comforting touch right now, and even though she knew that it couldn't be right as this girl was a pupil of hers, she couldn't do anything but accept the comfort now. It had been years since she had last fallen into the embrace of another; she couldn't let go of her even if she would have wanted to.

The elder witch's heavy sobbing eventually faded, but Hermione only continued to rake her fingers through her hair. It felt so nice, and yet Minerva had to stop this one way or another. Her usually clipped tone and unyielding voice didn't even sound a bit like Professor McGonagall anymore as she spoke, but hoarse due to the crying and tired; barely audible, "What are you searching for?"

Hermione swallowed. The hand upon Minerva's hair stilled. She didn't have to ponder about what Minerva meant. She knew. This question would have come sooner if not later either way. She only would have hoped it to be later. She hadn't really figured what she herself was feeling yet. She hadn't actually been able to give it a name quite yet, but Minerva was waiting for a reply. She settled on being honest with the Headmistress.

"I…" Hermione began, "I haven't really figured that one myself yet, but I… I feel the irrational need and maybe responsibility to keep you safe, to be with you and to hold you, and… I initially thought maybe because of my mother and mine's not so well relationship, maybe I was looking for a substitute in a way. You have been more of a mom to me in these seven years than mine actually was in a whole lifetime… I love her and dad, but… I'm a witch, and no matter… how hard they try, this is something that they'll never really be able to get. You were the one that I would go to when bumping on difficulties. You were the one to give answers on matters they couldn't…"

"That's my job, Hermione," Minerva whispered, shifting uncomfortably as her lower back began to hurt in this position, yet unwilling or even unable to leave the warmth of Hermione's embrace.

It didn't go entirely unnoticed by Hermione, though. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Would you like to sit upright?" Minerva's fingers intuitively tightened their hold upon Hermione's robes, then loosened as she nodded. Hermione nodded, too. "Alright," she said, carefully helping the elder woman to sit in bed, while making sure not to harm her injured hand. She nodded at Minerva once she was done fluffing the pillows at her lower back, propped up against the headboard, and Minerva leaned back, allowing a sigh of relief. "That's better," Hermione noticed, happy enough to receive a nod confirmation. It wasn't that much, but at least something and still better than nothing. Hermione then cast her gaze down once again. "I feel the urge to hold you closer than a mother/daughter relationship or something like that would allow. I can't actually look at you without imagining myself kissing your mouth, and…" She fell into silence for a little while. "I'm… I'm in love with you. You're likely against my type of woman… I mean…"

"Hermione, no. I've been through three wars. I know better than to judge people on whom they love."

"Have you… ever…?"

Minerva nodded. "I have, indeed."

"Teach me," she said at once, without actually realizing it. Then she tried to elucidate the reason why. "I… I don't know what it is like being with a woman, and…"

"I cannot," Minerva countered, heavily leaning her head against the headboard. "I won't put you in this position. I'm old. I'm the headmistress. You shouldn't give up your chances for the whole thing being with me. I cannot give you even half of what many others could."

"But, Minerva. I want you. What if I want nothing more than what you could offer? What if I want no one else but you? You have been through three wars. You say that you know far better than to judge people on whom they love. Shouldn't you know better than anyone else then how fleeting life could be, and how soon and easily it could all be over? Shouldn't you know better than anyone else that we should enjoy the little time we have?" She questioned, tears now running down her cheeks, her being unaware of the difficulty Minerva was having not to cry, too. Hermione knew that she may have gone too far once the next bit left her mouth. "Only look at Remus and Tonks. They could have had years more, with Teddy, if Remus hadn't been so damn stubborn. Tonks loved him no matter what, for years… for always." Hermione sighed. "She at least died happily in the end, I suppose. "

"Do you see it as a personal goal to see me die happily, too?"

"Maybe," Hermione replied, and sniffled.

"You're not being fair."

"Life isn't really fair, Minerva."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Do you feel anything for me?" Hermione questioned, finally ending the quiescence that had taken over for a while already. Minerva and she were sitting up next to one another in the elder witch's bed, each one focusing at another point in the distance, while not really eying it at all. Their gazes were directed right ahead, eyes glazed. Anyone walking in on them like that would have said the scene to look like one of a couple after a particularly horrific row… much like married couples are often described to act in novels. That realization lead Hermione to finally break the seemingly everlasting, painful silence. She didn't turn her head aside upon asking.

Minerva shakily exhaled and raised one hand to rub her forehead very slowly, as if hoping to find the reply easier that way. Professor McGonagall lead her to choose for a diplomatic one. "Hermione…" she began. "Hermione, even if I had, I couldn't give in to whatever I felt. You're a pupil of mine. I'm your headmistress, and I should be…" She finally turned her head aside, finding herself looking into teary hazel eyes, belonging to the woman that she couldn't really feel anything for, but did…

"Do you?" She questioned, the tone of her voice unsteady and begging for a reply… if her teary hazel eyes didn't already. "Do you? I'll never mention mine again if you tell me not. I only... Please. Minerva. I have to know."

Minerva sighed. "Hermione…" she began once again, then discontinued. That was enough for the far younger girl; more than she could bear as a matter of fact. She threw aside the sheets and slid to the edge of the bed, getting upright and all but running over in the direction of the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. "I do," Minerva said only right loud enough for them both to hear, as shaky fingers took their hold of the door knob. Hermione stilled, a sob escaping her. She didn't dare turn her gaze toward the elder witch again, afraid to read a lie in her eyes, even though she never would have suspected Minerva to say something she didn't mean until then – and not even then if more rational mind and less emotion had been involved at that particular point in time. She quietly leaned her forehead against the doorframe, waiting for more to come, but it didn't. She could hear Minerva audibly swallow and the sheets momentarily rustle, followed by the sound of the bed squeaking. It took basically all of Hermione Granger's willpower not to turn and look when the sound of Minerva wincing was being added to the mix.

"I'm going to get a shower," Minerva announced. "Please, don't go."

Hermione could barely hear the sound of Minerva muttering something in the likes of 'Merlin, do I need one.' followed by the door between the bedroom and bathroom shutting. She remained like that a bit longer, then turned toward the lonely bedroom and sat upon the edge of the bed, facing the door to the bathroom and unconsciously swallowing, knowing that right at that moment in time, Minerva must be taking off her attires – possibly very uneasily due to her injury of last night, too. And indeed, soon enough she could hear the water of Minerva's shower running. It didn't take much longer until she could hear something falling down, like a piece of soap, followed by a rather loud wince of Minerva and muttered cursing – something she never would have anticipated of the Headmistress.

Hermione sucked her quivering bottom lip under her teeth, biting it, but it merely made the moment until she veered up again and reached for the door to the bathroom last longer – it didn't counter it at all. Hermione bit harder upon her lower lip, as she quietly turned the door knob, and moved to open the passage that would lead her to Minerva… naked Minerva. Turning her gaze down upon finding she stepped upon something unusually soft while making her way in, she found Minerva's attires carelessly thrown to the floor. She quietly slid her eyes upward again, to the figure that was blurred by the matted shower walls. Minerva didn't even realize Hermione had come into the bathroom and was now eyeing her.

In there, Minerva's winces were more audible, and Hermione fully realized in how much pain the headmistress must be. It must be hard showering while unable to use one's right hand and being right handed as well. Slowly inhaling then deeply exhaling Hermione began peeling off her own attires, still unnoticed by the elder witch in the shower due to the spray of water under which she stood.

The chill of morning wind passing by as Hermione slowly walked into the shower as well finally made her turn and look into resolute hazel. No word left either, as Hermione carefully reached for the soap and then tilted her head, waiting for some kind of reassurance. Minerva swallowed, slowly turning until she herself faced the wall so Hermione could begin washing her back. She didn't really believe she could face the younger woman like this either. The thought of Hermione Granger sharing her shower with her, being naked right there with her…

Hermione too had difficulties focusing on doing nothing more but washing Minerva as she slowly slid the bar of mildly lavender scented soap across the milky white skin of her back. No obvious lines of her bra appeared to have left their mark upon her back, like often was the case after wearing it for mere hours with many a woman. Minerva's back was just like she recalled. It wasn't entirely scar-free, but nothing less than perfect nevertheless – at least to her. The occasional glances Hermione had had of the elder woman's bosom hadn't hinted it to be any different, and she didn't doubt any other part of her to be.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Please, let me," Hermione whispered, seeing Minerva reach for the folded towel upon the white granite bathroom counter. Minerva's hand stilled, and without really eyeing her, Hermione easily caught hold of the towel and quietly began to rub it in the elder woman's wet hair, rather taking the time to do it manually instead of using an easy spell.

Satisfied eventually with the dryness of Minerva's hair, she tenderly pushed it all over the elder witch's shoulder and continued rubbing the towel further down over her milky skin: her back and thighs and calves… and all very slowly.

"Turn," she whispered, while sitting down on her knees at Minerva's feet, on which her eyes focused. Sure enough, after another few beats of silence she could see the small, feminine feet turning with the toes in her direction, and she slowly began rubbing upwards again, thoughtfully turning aside her head upon climbing Minerva' nude body with the towel. She never once wanted to embarrass.

Once she was finished doing that and stood with merely some inches between her and Minerva, who was entirely dry while she was still soaking, she finally dared to look the elder woman in the eyes. Without words, Minerva then wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck and hid her face in the younger Gryffindor's shoulder. Hermione, a little taken aback by this, wrapped her arms around the Headmistress' frail body in return, unconsciously making a mental note to make sure she ate some more. Their breasts were pressed together with no material shedding them, yet Hermione was alright to just be holding her right now. This was a huge step already, and she internally hoped Minerva would allow her a few more like this…

They continued hugging for a while. No words were being spoken, and that meant more than any word could have. Their hands didn't roam, but remained in place. Both of them would have wanted to in any other moment, but not right then. It wasn't the time, and both of them accepted that without much thought.

A chill passed over them then, especially affecting Hermione's still wet body. They both stepped back at the same time, teal green connecting with hazel. Again, no words were spoken, until Hermione visibly shivered. A wave of Minerva's hand in mid air dried her. Hermione could feel a warmth spread across her body and instinctively reached up to find her hair dry just as well. She smiled, and Minerva returned it, even though only momentarily. Hermione momentarily wondered why she didn't dry her own hair then with the very same spell. It appeared as if the elder woman had read the unspoken question in her head, and Hermione wondered if maybe her Head of House could be a good Legilimens as well. "If I dry them like that, I'll never get rid of the tangles. I tried."

The elder witch once again waved her hand, and Hermione found them both clothed in their usual daily attires. She swallowed her questions and watched Minerva quietly turning to face the mirror and reaching over for her comb. Hermione quietly eyed her as she carefully combed her lengthy graying locks, allowing Minerva to do a few such strokes herself, then slowly reaching to take the comb. Her warm hand closed over Minerva's, and both women eyed each other for a moment. "I'll be careful," Hermione assured. Another few heartbeats and Minerva finally released her hold on the comb, turning back toward the mirror. Hermione saw in the mirror how Minerva first bit her lip, seemingly afraid that Hermione would hurt her even though she had assured her she would be careful. She continued watching Minerva's face as she continued to rake Minerva's comb through the elder woman's lengthy hair. One would never really guess it to be so long when it was pulled up into its usual high, tight bun. It actually reached the small of Minerva's back, and she was a rather tall woman. When it was wet like now, it was raven black like it had been in her youth, and Hermione could only vaguely imagine how beautiful she must have been with that hair whipping about when she was still younger. She assumed that Minerva must have worn it often loose in her days and not pulled up tight as was the case nearly every day now. Hermione regretted never having seen it like that. The only time ever when Hermione had seen Minerva's hair pseudo loose had been with the Yule Ball, and it hadn't been entirely then either, but halfway pulled up in a rather loose braid, with some stray strands tumbling down over the elder witch's back. Hermione noticed with a smile how the ends of her hair slightly curled.

She could see the lines in Minerva's face relax and her eyes close, as she carefully ran the comb through the lengthy hair once again and repeated until Minerva's hair was neatly combed and shiny. Minerva's eyes opened and she eyed Hermione through the reflection of the mirror. They continued eying each other in silence again, until Minerva blinked away and turned, facing Hermione. Once the revelation was full, her hair was dry as well. Hermione eyed her with awe. "Much obliged," she whispered, taking her comb back and banishing it back to its place without blinking. Then, she quietly shook her head, and Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock when she noticed that that shake of the head had been enough for Minerva's hair to magically pin itself up neatly as usual. "Practice," Minerva whispered, upon seeing Hermione's reaction.

Hermione nodded, then began laughing aloud, making Minerva's eyebrow quirk in confusion. Some would say Albus Dumbledore had been overly magical… She had wondered for years if maybe there was magic involved keeping the Head of Gryffindor House's hair up like that every hour of every day. Upon combing through it, she had actually felt how heavy it must be and had wondered about it more than ever. She had finally gotten an answer after many years. There was no question about it anymore now.

Hermione eventually regained and stood to eye the Transfiguration Professor again, who still had her eyebrow quirked in wonder. Hermione shook her head to pass it off as nothing. Then she slowly stepped closer once again and laid her hand upon the elder witch's cheek, seeing her visibly swallow.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, and Minerva could feel the younger girl's breath on her lips as she carefully stood on tip-toes to reach Minerva's level. Her eyes intuitively closed at the sensation – one she hadn't actually felt in years. And then she suddenly felt lithe supple lips against hers. And once she realized it, they were already gone again. "I'm sorry," that same voice whispered. Minerva forced open her eyes, but she could only hear the sound of her office door shutting. She looked about the bathroom and uselessly called the younger witch's name, walking into the bedroom and the office, only to find Hermione was gone.

"Damn," she muttered, then sighed and sat on the edge of her desk, unconsciously reaching up with one hand to touch her lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

_"It has been nine years since that kiss. I can't help but reminisce. Hey, _Minerva, _do you remember?"_ – 'Michel', by Anouk

* * *

**2007**

Finally having succeeded in finding what she had been looking for, Hermione reached for the bottle of liquor at the back of the cabinet. She had been all over in search of something slightly stronger than the Butterbeer and not so very good Firewhiskey taking up most of the staff room cabinet. Hermione eyed the label of the bottle in her hand and deduced that she couldn't read much as it was all very tiny lettering, and the rather bad light didn't help at all. With a wave of her hand, the bottle uncorked itself, and she carefully took the cork off, lowering her nose to the neck of the bottle to smell and not detecting anything else but the smell of good, old malt. She thoughtfully took a glass off the high upper layer as well – barely able to reach it while on her tiptoes, before swaying the cabinet door shut with a neatly placed sway of her hip and taking the uncorked bottle and the glass back to the table.

She was all alone in the staff room, as usual. She somehow liked that; wasting away time while running through her pupils' papers and such there, rather than in her office. Her office was nice and all – that was not the issue. Minerva had given her free reign to change it all to her taste… Maybe that was the real issue: Minerva. The office had belonged to the ruling Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once. Professor Perette had been there in the meantime as well, but still …

Professor Perette had proven to be a good successor for her when Minerva had become Headmistress – of course never better or even half as good as Minerva herself. Then again that was impossible. The nine years in which she had been the Professor of Transfiguration she had done her job very well. It had been her choice to leave, because she had chosen to have more time with her family… and now somehow Hermione had rolled into the job.

She kicked off her heavy boots and reached down to undo her socks to give her feet and toes some more freedom, then reached for her glass, raising it to her lips and downing half of it before setting it down again. She squeezed her eyes shut as the heavy alcoholic liquid went down her throat. Minerva… Minerva had been the reason why she was sitting there now. She had been the one to save her. Hermione truly didn't know if, had she not come in at the right moment, she would still even be alive. Her life had taken such a different course after that one kiss in 1998; the kiss she still recalled as if it had been only yesterday ...

_"You're beautiful," she whispered, and she knew Minerva could feel her breath on her lips as she carefully stood on tip-toes to reach Minerva's level. Minerva's eyes intuitively closed at the sensation – one she hadn't actually felt in years._

… one Hermione had never felt until then and would never feel again either. Hermione sighed, shaking her head in a vain effort to wipe the much relived memory from her mind, even if only for the time being. She had hopelessly tried to wipe it away for nine years now, but still she had not succeeded. She had tried not to compare Ron's kisses to Minerva's, but every time they had kissed, she had not been able to stop it. Maybe it was for the better that Ron and she were no longer married… Hermione sank further down in her chair and downed the rest of the glass in one go. This time she didn't even close her eyes as the malt touched her tongue.

Maybe it never should have happened between her and Ron. After all, she could have guessed how it would all turn to be. Their marriage had been nothing different from how their companionship had been all these years: with a lot of ups and downs like maybe every other marriage, but their downs had only critically increased since their wedding day until they finally found themselves without ups …

What she regretted most in her life was backpedalling on Minerva and running away right when she could have had the chance to be happy with her. However, the intensity of that little touch of lips had overtaken her and made her feel something so powerful and strong she had gotten scared of it. Kissing Ron had never been very special, but at least it had felt safe. On the other hand, the effect Minerva had had on her and possibly still had, had made Hermione doubt if she could still even trust herself to be alone with the Headmistress in one room. She couldn't say what she possibly would do. Her feelings for Minerva were so intense that she might do anything from slightly overstepping her boundaries to marginally going over the line, and she had gone way over the line as a pupil already…

Ron and she had ended up together somehow that Easter and of course there had never been spoken about the thing with Minerva anymore. She had committed to Ron, trying to forget about the soul stirring kiss. And that's where she had made a capital mistake. She had made the capital mistake of saying yes to marrying him with that still in her head, when Ron had not wanted to look weak in comparison with Harry and had offered her a stunning ring a month after Harry had asked Ginny to get married. Ginny had rather coincidentally discovered she was carrying their first child two days after and had gotten married when five months along, while Ron and she had gotten married the year after, to live in a small house close to the Weasleys.

They hadn't willingly tried for a child, but just seen how things would go along. Hermione was actually quite astounded it had actually taken them four years, considering the lot of fights between them and the repetitive make-up sex after each time. Her marriage with Ron had already nearly only consisted of fights by the time she too discovered she was having a baby, though. She had not been very sure about raising a child in such situation, but she had chosen to be honest with Ron, and once he had known that he was going to be a father, there was no way she could have shared with him the doubts she had had. After all, he truly seemed to have changed that day, putting her for everything. He had, after what she heard of colleagues, never worked so hard at the ministry; he would do basically most of the household forbidding her of helping, asking her how she was holding up and if he could do anything for her multiple times a day. She had already discovered about the baby fairly early, and if her marriage with Ron had not already been doomed to fail since the beginning, she would have regretted not having waited a little while before informing him. She had after all not had a lot of issues with morning sickness or anything. It would have been easy to hide from her often imperceptible husband.

Disaster had well struck while four months along and all help had been too late when she woke up in the middle of the night with heavy cramping and bleeding, though. Ron had not known what to do and had Apparated to the Burrow as a first thought. He had been back in minutes with Mrs. Weasley with him, but after having had seven children and a couple of miscarriages in between herself, she had known what was going on at once, and that little could be done to stop nature. She had nursed Hermione through the first few days with some potions against the pain and traditional Muggle hot water bottles.

Ron had been shocked at first – mostly by the fact a woman could still lose a child after three months along seeing that was often said to be the critical phase and seeing that Hermione's gynecologist had stated all was just fine on the last check-up one week earlier. Once the initial shock had been over, and no one could give him a reason for the miscarriage, he had turned his anger upon his wife. She had been able to bear it for about two months until she couldn't take it anymore and had moved in with her mother and father again for the time being, at the same time entirely resigning at the ministry instead of extending sick leave. He had written twice the first week, but that had been it. He had no longer tried after she had not written back. Yeah, he had Apparated there once as well in the second week, but she had asked her mother to send him away. He had not come back. She had never returned 'home' again, but then again the house she had called 'home' had never really been her home at all.

She had forever known that somehow Ron and her marriage would be challenging to say the least and so it wasn't as if one morning she woke up asking herself what she was doing with him; no, one day when she had marginally regained from the miscarriage and the blame which he bestowed upon her often, she woke in her bedroom at her mother and father's house asking herself what was the matter with her to still having married him even though her doubts.

And then somehow Minerva had come to the rescue, appearing at the house of the Grangers asking how Hermione was doing. It had been rather a surprise considering she and Minerva had never even really talked without others at least possibly listening along, nor more than the strictly necessary in nine years. Hermione had voiced that thought, and Minerva's answer had been the diplomatic one, saying she had been sad to hear about the miscarriage and was very sorry, then asking about her resigning and her divorce.

It had appeared all over the Daily Prophet and thus Hermione hadn't been very surprised to find Minerva knew about it; even if it hadn't been all over the Wizarding newspaper, she still wouldn't have been surprised. She, however, had been surprised to hear Minerva's offer. She had offered Hermione a place to work at Hogwarts for the next school year if she was maybe interested and wanted to broaden her horizons if she would like to. Hermione had asked for a few days of thought. She had sent her response by owl four days later. And now it was the end of September and Hermione's third week as a professor at Hogwarts was setting in.

Hermione tipped back her head and downed her second glass in one go. As she quietly put her glass back on the table, her head felt woozy; feeling the effect of too much of well concentrated malt in too little time. However, as everything shifted into focus again, Hermione smiled wide and began laughing, aloud. The last time she had really been intoxicated had been her wedding day. Truth told, she had never even recalled more than the ceremony…

Professor Flitwick had been the last one to leave with Professor Sprout about half an hour earlier then, and she really didn't feel like reading through any more fourth year papers anymore. Besides, she still had a sense of mind and knew it would not be intelligent to grade the other quarter now. It would not be fair to the others… or maybe the other way around.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see the little Muggle radio sitting on the lower cabinet on the other side of the room. A wave of her wand turned the sound on, and the last verses of one of the Weird Sisters' hits filled the room. Disinterested, she waved her wand once again to search for a Muggle radio station. It had been ages since she had gone clubbing in Muggle London – ten years, in fact. The last time had been her own hen party…

As the familiar chords of Bon Jovi's You Give Love A Bad Name filled the room, Hermione couldn't help but chuckle as she rose and began dancing and screaming with at the top of her lungs like she never had; as if her life depended upon it. This song had been a hit when she hadn't even known yet she was a witch. She hadn't heard it in many years… When she turned around, and found her glass too far off, but the bottle right close enough, she just reached for the bottle, never noticing how uncontrolled her moves on the music became… And before the song had ended, she had nearly tripped over her feet twice, and her bellowing had reached the kitchen, stirring the House Elves… Hermione never even saw Ditzy Apparating into the staff room and then Disapparating again… to the Headmistress' office…

* * *

Ditzy was not very surprised to see Minerva still sitting behind her desk, her eyeglasses perched on the top of her nose as her teal green eyes scanned the vellum before her, her hand moving across it as she wrote her reply and occasionally dipping her quill into the ink well beside it, as she busied with responding to her load of correspondence. The House Elf didn't dare interrupt the Headmistress in her doings and wanted to wait by the door with her head down until at least that letter was done. Minerva, however, beat her to the punch, slowly lowering her quill and raising her head to look at the tiny female House Elf. "Yes, Ditzy?" she questioned, a small smile on her lips as she kindly addressed the tiny creature by name.

"I is very sorry to disturb you, Professors McGonagall," Ditzy began.

"Oh, don't be," Minerva said. "What's the matter?"

"Professors Granger, Headmistress."

Minerva's eyebrow quirked upon the comment from the little House Elf. Hermione? "Ditzy, what do you mean?" Minerva questioned, unconsciously taking her wand and already moving to rise, her correspondence suddenly not of importance anymore. "What's the matter with Her– Professor Granger?"

"Professors Granger has been consuming of the old malt in the staff room," Ditzy said, recounting what she had seen.

Minerva's eyes closed for a few heartbeats, and the Headmistress replied the House Elf with her eyes still tightly shut. "I'm much obliged for you telling me, Ditzy. I'll address the issue myself at once." A faint pop announced the Elf Disapparating to the kitchens once again. Minerva then opened her eyes and momentarily shook her head. Before the door fell shut behind her, she had turned in a grey tabby cat, running in the direction of the staff room.

Once she had reached the at grade hallway and could hear from a distance the noise Ditzy had warned about, Minerva turned into a woman once again, thoughtfully waving her wand and casting the most powerful silencing charm that she knew hoping to spare the whole castle from waking up… She took a deep, steadying breath as she reached the door of the staff room; a little breathless from the run and unprepared for what she would possibly be seeing once the door opened.

No matter what she had in mind stroked with what she actually did find. Hermione was atop of the large wooden table in the staff room, using the long downed bottle of old malt as some microphone as she danced and sang along to the music coming from the radio that was usually there only for decoration. Hermione didn't even notice her coming in as she bellowed the chorus louder than ever, "She's a maaaneater! Make you work hard! Make you spend hard! Make you want all of her love!"

A wave of her wand turned off the radio, and Hermione sang a few more words before realizing what had happened. As she eyed everything around her and found the radio no longer blasting, but the Headmistress standing by the table with an unreadable expression on her face, her knees weakened, and she slowly sank down on them, before crawling to the edge of the table. "Minerva!" She exclaimed, opening her arms as if to envelop the elder woman in a hug. Minerva, however, was farther away than Hermione would have guessed, and the Headmistress only barely in time managed the steps forward that were needed for Hermione not to catch around thin air. All Hermione's weight suddenly rested on the Headmistress as she rightly wrapped her arms around the elder woman's shoulders and rested her head in the crook of Minerva's neck. Minerva wandlessly summoned the nearest chair underneath her and sat, allowing Hermione to hold onto her for a bit.

"That's like the worst lie ever," Hermione whispered after a few minutes of quiescence. "I'm madly in love with a woman and have been since I was in my late teens…" Another silence fell over them, and Hermione allowed herself to slide down on Minerva's lap, straddling her. She slowly loosened her grip on the elder woman and leaned back a little to make their eyes meet. "I'm sorry for running then," she apologized, suddenly no longer sounding so inebriated anymore and tears filling up her eyes. "I never would have married him. I would have been happy with you," she said, as the first tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Minerva was somehow grateful that Hermione had lowered her head so that she could not see Minerva biting down on her lip. "You can't know that, Hermione," Minerva whispered, unconsciously stroking through the long unruly hair of the former Weasley. She sighed, allowing the particular lavender scent of Hermione to penetrate her nostrils and wash over her being. And then those lips…

Hermione tenderly ran her lips over the joint that attached Minerva's shoulder to her neck, tracing it. "Hermione, stop."

"Why?" Hermione whispered, continuing.

"Hermione," Minerva breathed, making the younger witch lean back again and actually look at her finally. Minerva's mouth opened, ready to try convince Hermione not a lot had changed since their last conversation; that she had only gotten even older, that… but Hermione appeared to have anticipated what she was about to say, and a soft forefinger came to rest on her lips to keep her from speaking.

"Minerva. A lot of things have changed as well. I am no longer your pupil. I'm free to love you now, and you're …" She didn't dare finish that thought. If Minerva didn't love her, she didn't want to hear it. She lowered her head. "I never should have married Ron… I still love you more than anything. I have never been able to forget that kiss either. I have tried, but I couldn't."

"I haven't either," Minerva admitted, and Hermione's head rose again.

"Really?" Hermione questioned, watching Minerva's weak nod. They would need to work together on talking about feelings… Hermione unconsciously licked her lips. "What would you say about a repeat performance then?" She asked rather cheekily, slowly leaning in to kiss away Minerva's uncharacteristic grin.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Minerva fell back on her bed once she had Apparated them into her bedroom, Hermione following. When air finally became a necessity, and Hermione pulled away to breathe, only then did she realize they were in another room by the change of scenery. She allowed her eyes to wander about the bedroom. It hadn't changed a lot in nine years. Maybe she could after all these years finally continue what they once had begun. She could feel the older woman's fingers tightening and holding onto the material embracing her sides. She averted her eyes down again, but noticed Minerva's earlier grin gone as her rational side fought over her desires. The woman underneath her swallowed, her eyes getting cloudy. Then she suddenly realized Minerva unsuccessfully tried to push her off of her. Hermione frowned and obeyed, moving her leg over the Headmistress' body and lying down next to her instead.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me, and why I Apparated us here…" She began pushing herself up, but Hermione – even though still slightly inebriated – caught her arm to stop her. Their eyes inevitably connected, and Minerva looked like a deer caught into the headlights, for momentarily having let her emotions take over. "Ditzy interrupted me, while I was responding my correspondence. I should finish that first and then have a bath or shower. I'll ask her or another House Elf to see you to your rooms, and give you something so you'll not be too hangover in the morning," she continued, detaching herself and pushing herself to the edge of the bed.

"Why do you hide so much underneath Hogwarts business?" Hermione interrupted, her unique hazel eyes suddenly very clear as she watched Minerva's figure stiffen. "Why don't you ever allow your emotions to just… let go, and…" She sighed, interrupting herself and shaking her head. "If you really want me, then why don't you… take me?"

Minerva rose, whirling about to look at the younger Gryffindor. "Hermione. You have consumed a full bottle of old malt and that on your own. I will not take advantage of the way the level of alcohol in your blood makes you feel right now. I will not have you on these terms. I have made enough mistakes concerning you back in the days, and no matter what or how I feel about it, I…" she began.

Hermione slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching up to lay a finger over the elder woman's lips. "Minerva. I want you. The only mistake happening was me leaving you and getting married to Ron." Minerva sighed and closed her eyes, again sitting down on the edge of the bed, opening them. Hermione consciously averted her eyes to look at Minerva's shaky hands and moved to hold them within hers, squeezing them. Hermione tentatively reached to touch the elder lady's cheek, and Minerva intuitively closed her eyes once again, sighing in satisfaction while leaning into the touch. "Listen, Minerva. We don't have to do anything you don't want, but… My feelings about you won't change when I'm sober, and if you really love me …"

"I… I'm sorry," she whispered, one tear slipping down from beneath her lashes and running down over her cheek once her eyes opened. "I have tried nine years – hopelessly – to forget about what I felt. If my mother or father, could see me now, they would …" Even though still slightly intoxicated, Hermione was intelligent enough not to push upon that. Minerva inhaled, looking down on their entwined hands and slightly squeezing Hermione's.

Hermione weakly smiled up at the other witch. "I love you, and I have patience. I'd never push you into anything you don't want to."

"I know," Minerva whispered. "I knew, that you would turn into a fine young witch one day, but I never would have imagined you like this."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, a tendril of her hair escaping. She intuitively reached up to tuck it back, but Minerva was faster, tucking it with the other strands again with such tenderness that she even surprised herself with it. It had been a very long time since Minerva McGonagall had been like this with anyone – well over half a century if she wasn't sadly mistaken. She wouldn't have believed she was still capable of being so openly loving with another. Hermione smiled, too. She turned aside her head to kiss Minerva's palm as she retracted.

"You're an amazing young woman, Hermione. I would have anticipated quite a lot of you, ever since you walked into the Great Hall for the first time and got sorted into Gryffindor, but you have successfully surpassed my expectations," she whispered, speaking from the bottom of her heart.

"I'm not all that, Minerva."

"You are," Minerva replied, and hazel connected with teal green on a far higher level than ever, "to me," she finished.

Hermione sighed. "I'll return to my rooms," she whispered, getting up. "I'll let you finish responding your correspondence."

"Hermione…" Minerva spoke, as Hermione stood to face her, and they were only mere inches apart. Both women's breaths hitched, as they once again felt the electricity that sparked between them if they were really close like that. She slowly leaned in, eyes inevitably falling shut as their lips touched, then retracting. "Please. Stay," she whispered. "I won't take long," she said, "and …" air caught in her throat, and Hermione saw that she was having difficulties with saying that what she wanted to say. She tentatively reached to lay her hand across Minerva's heart, and that seemed enough for her to calm; that candid touch was enough. "Maybe you could join me in bathing afterward," she finished.

Hermione's mouth opened a couple of times. "I'd like that, but I don't want to push you."

This time Minerva calmly covered the younger witch's lips with a finger. "You don't."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hermione's lace panties slid down her legs to puddle on the tiles of Minerva's large, luxurious bathroom. She carefully slipped her foot in the water to test the heat and found it about perfect. Hermione slowly slipped into the water fully and dipped her head under water. When she came up once again, she saw Minerva by the edge of the bath still in her under-robe. Her arms were crossed over her body as if to shield herself. Hermione easily swam to the edge of the large, pool-like bath and stood, the water reaching just above her bosom. As she waded up the steps and rose up from the water, Minerva swallowed. The water barely reached her navel, giving a clear view of her taut bosom and dusky, puckered nipples, when she finally halted, reaching for Minerva's arms and slowly guiding both to rest by her sides. "You're beautiful," she whispered. "You don't have to hide away that body."

Hazel connected with teal green, and Minerva swallowed. Nine years had passed since she had last seen the young witch naked, and in these nine years she had possibly gotten even more beautiful than then. Her frame had rounded more, leaving her with breathtaking female curves. She had once upon a time been like that as well, but that was no longer the case. How could she not be ashamed or embarrassed when there was such young and attractive thing before her, like Hermione Granger?

Slowly, Hermione began to hitch up the fabric of the elder lady's under-robe, lifting it as high as she could possibly reach and watching with a smile as Minerva continued to pull it over her head, their fingers momentarily touching as she did so. Minerva stood only in underwear before her once the fabric fell down beside them, and she slowly began going down the stairs, getting consumed by the water, without taking her underwear off. Hermione walked backwards down the stairs with her, their eyes not disconnecting once. If Minerva felt more comfortable like this, Hermione would not push her.

Hermione slowly moved over behind Minerva, reaching up into her hair to carefully undo the bunch of hairpins holding up her hair. She could feel more than hear Minerva's breathing hitch and her heartbeat momentarily stop. "Please, relax," Hermione whispered, her voice very close to the older woman's ear. With every hairpin undone, more of Minerva's lengthy raven locks got undone and tumbled down her back, the edges falling into the water. Hermione carefully brushed the older woman's hair aside over one shoulder, letting her fingertips slide over the skin of her shoulders downwards to the fastener of her bra. She very slowly undid it, letting her fingertips slide up again and push down the straps, pulling away the fabric as she came around to face Minerva once again. She blindly threw the material aside. "Please," she whispered, and even though anyone else would not have understood the reference, Minerva did. She nodded, reaching up with her hands to momentarily cover her face. Minerva slowly lowered her hands again, easily waving one in mid-air, and at once soft music began to fill the little bathroom. As a natural reaction, Hermione looked up and about the room to see where that sound came from, but she didn't care anymore about it when she couldn't immediately identify the source.

"I sometimes like listening to soft music like this while in the bath. It gets me more relaxed."

"I have another suggestion for that," Hermione whispered, once again coming back around Minerva and reaching up to massage her shoulders, something Minerva enjoyed immensely. Hermione's hands felt like heaven upon her sore muscles. That in combination with the warmth of the water around her that was lavender scented, Hermione's lavender smell contradicting perfectly with it as both smells penetrated her nostrils, soon did succeed in relaxing her.

* * *

_Stay awake, just to hear you breathing ..._

Hermione at once lowered the comb that she had been holding as the first lines of I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing carried across the bathroom. She turned to Minerva, eyes wide. Minerva's eyebrow quirked, as she didn't rightly get the reason for Hermione's sudden reaction. Minerva had easily modified the radio to play Muggle music on Hermione's request with another wave of her hand while in bath earlier. She hadn't recognized a lot of the songs thus far, but this one appeared familiar at least to Hermione. She didn't really get the reason why this one especially would elicit such reaction, though. Hermione had given notice of having recognized multiple songs by singing along already. "I have loved that song ever since I first saw Armageddon!" Hermione elucidated, even though the word 'armageddon' only caused Minerva's confusion to rise higher and her eyebrow to quirk deeper.

Hermione only then realized that witches didn't know anything about televisions or anything like that. "I'm sorry," Hermione apologized. "Armageddon's a movie – a very emotional one at that as well. I cry every time that I see it." Minerva nodded, understanding dawning upon her. "We should watch it together sometime. It got released a month after the battle," Hermione continued, recalling. "In fact, it was the very first movie that Ron and I saw at the movies together, before I began my seventh year here. He would have liked to dance upon it at our wedding, but…" Minerva stepped closer, lovingly lifting Hermione's chin. "I couldn't. A lot of things happened between the time I heard that song for the first time and our marriage." Minerva didn't need more than that to realize what Hermione referred to.

"I really wanted to dance to it with you..." Hermione admitted, teal green connecting with hazel.

_Don't wanna miss a thing ..._

"Maybe it is about time then," Minerva suggested, hands falling down upon Hermione's waist, earning her one of the most breathtaking smiles she had ever seen as the younger witch's arms wrapped around her neck.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hermione awoke by the first rays of sunshine penetrating the slits between the curtains and forcing their way into the room. She intuitively raised her head first, as she usually did, hand moving and not finding her fingers curled around the sheet as usual, but something far thinner and softer found itself in her hold, and she blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the dimness in the room and turned aside her head to look at her hand, fisted around Minerva's tartan nightgown. Her view drifted up a bit higher and came to rest upon the face of Minerva McGonagall. Minerva's eyes were open, and a little smile crossed over her features. At once all memories from the night before came back to her. Minerva and she had kissed vigorously after their dance, walking each other to the bedroom as it got more intense.

"We never got far," Minerva said, as if having followed the memories in her head, and once again Hermione was left wondering if maybe Minerva was a good Legilimens. "You fell asleep quite soon. I would blame the level of alcohol that was still in your blood. A full bottle of malt all on your own isn't nothing."

Hermione smiled, rubbing the side of her face into Minerva's nightgown. "Have you been awake long?"

Minerva's head shook. "No, I haven't."

Hermione nodded more to herself than anyone else, finally releasing Minerva's nightgown and sitting up in bed and yawning, keeping her hand before her mouth in politeness. "What time is it actually?" She asked. "I should really get back to my rooms and find something to wear before going down to have breakfast."

"It is only six," Minerva countered, watching her.

Hermione inhaled deeply, turning to Minerva again, who, too, sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm sorry, Minerva," she whispered. "I don't want to give you the feeling that I'm running. I don't regret ending up here in your bed – even though we didn't do anything. I just…" She closed her eyes as she ran through the words she wanted to say in her head to make sure it didn't leave her in a mess. Hazel connected with teal green like so often before she began speaking again. "I have got patience, Minerva. I won't push you into anything you don't want to, but let's not test how strong my boundaries might be, right?"

Minerva unconsciously licked her lips in nervousness. "You know, after you fell asleep yesterday night, I had some time to ponder, and …" Hermione's eyes turned frightened, as she heard this. "Don't," Minerva commented, her ever observing nature as a teacher interfering at that moment. "I'm not…" she began, and sighed. "I do not want to restrict you in anything, but you seem quite sure about this."

"I am."

Minerva nodded. "Indeed. I have lived most of my life to the rules of my family, living it maybe more for them than for me. I have dedicated my life to Hogwarts and teaching." She took another deep breath before the essence followed. "I have tried nine years hopelessly to forget about our kiss; about you. I have kept that in mind, and I would possibly never have said this before yesterday, but maybe it is time that I have something for myself as well, and if not for myself, for you. You are quite sure about this, and I don't believe I could actually kick you away if I wanted to. If you truly believe that I could make you happy, maybe I should… make your wish come true. Maybe I should try, even though I have no experience whatsoever about dating women …"

The rest of her words got interrupted by Hermione successfully throwing herself upon Minerva. More didn't have to be said. "I don' t know how I should be thanking you for this," Hermione whispered, feeling Minerva's arms wrap around her as well, and she felt something else as well; something she desperately tried to push aside. She retracted, looking in Minerva's eyes. The light that forced its way into the room splaying over her face made her look like an angel from Heaven. Hermione couldn't help but swallow at that image, reaching to touch her cheek lovingly before pulling back. "I really should go back to my rooms, though," she whispered. "I don't want to rush you, and I'm afraid if I …"

This time it was Minerva's turn to silence the other woman, leaning over to let their lips touch one another. Hermione reacted at once, the memory of Minerva's puckered nipples and last night was enough to stir Hermione's arousal again, and before she knew it, she laid atop of Minerva, kissing her back hard while clutching at her tartan nightgown. They parted, for a few heartbeats to catch air, their foreheads touching and eyes locking. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop anymore if we continue this," she whispered.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" Minerva rhetorically asked, slowly leaning up to pull Hermione in another kiss, as she blindly hitched up her own nightgown over the younger witch's legs and thighs, soon enough clutching at her bare bottom. Hermione moaned as she felt Minerva's fingers discovering that fact, and she uneasily began to tug at Minerva's nightgown as well, wriggling her hips while doing so, and making Minerva gasp. An easily muttered spell from Minerva between heated kisses banished their nightgowns to the edge of the bed, leaving only Minerva's cotton panties between them.

Hermione took advantage of that freedom and coaxed her legs around until she straddled the elder woman underneath her, beginning to kiss her jaw line and further down her throat. It wasn't the first time that they were so close and naked so she didn't react overly to it, and in her mind the real bliss was only about to begin.

Minerva bit down on her lip and moaned, arching up into the touch, her hands caressing up and down the younger woman's back as one hand came up and cupped the side of her left breast. Feeling encouraged by Minerva's low moans, Hermione's touch on the older woman's breast became more determined as her lips and tongue followed the swell of her other breast in obedience and she finally took the nipple into her mouth. Minerva gasped, panting hard. She suppressed the need to push Hermione's head closer and push more of her nipple in the young woman's mouth. Her nails unconsciously dug into Hermione's flesh as Hermione sucked hard on her right nipple, then tenderly licked away the pain this might have caused, before moving on southwards, her legs sliding between Minerva's as she felt her legs want to spread wider.

Hermione continued to lower herself, nuzzling her way down over Minerva's tummy until reaching her panties: the final layer between them. There would be no turning back. Hermione looked up at the elder woman and found her hazy green eyes connecting with hers as she nodded. Hermione fleetingly kissed the elder woman's pubic bone through the material, her fingers curling around the waistline as she slowly began pulling it down over those unbelievably long, smooth legs, before discarding it over her shoulder in the vicinity of the bedroom.

Minerva felt very self-conscious as she felt Hermione's gaze upon her, running up over her legs and the darker triangle between her slightly spread thighs. "You're beautiful," Hermione whispered, laying herself down between Minerva's legs again and kissing her inner thigh reassuringly. Minerva intuitively spread her legs a little wider, allowing Hermione better access. "Better," Hermione breathed against her wetness, making a shiver run up her spine in anticipation. She wasn't going to… was she?

Minerva bucked up hard at the unfamiliarity of feeling Hermione's slick tongue run up from her opening through her slit, tickling her bundle of nerves by wiggling her tongue from the left to the right a couple of times very fast. She moaned loud through her teeth, her hands having fallen to her sides now clutching the sheets tightly. Hermione couldn't help but grin at the reaction that elicited by Minerva, and she happily continued running her tongue from the bottom up Minerva's slit, raising two fingers to tease slightly around the edges of her sheath. Minerva's head was being thrust back in the pillow, her lips releasing their first of many shrieks of pleasure for the night as Hermione gave a tug at Minerva's clit with her lips at the same time that her fingertips slipped into Minerva's tight sheath.

As Hermione's fingers slowly sank deeper, her tongue running around the bundle of nerves that brought her inner folds together, Minerva felt fulfilled for the first time in years, and without her realizing, that feeling caused tears to well up in her eyes, and one escaped and ran down into her hairline. That didn't go unnoticed by Hermione, who had kept her eyes upon Minerva the whole time to make sure to stop at the first sign of pain. Minerva hadn't been intimate with anyone for a while, and even though she wasn't really old for a witch, she wasn't really young anymore either. "Minerva, love, are you all right?" She asked.

Minerva shakily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and rose on her elbows so as to better look at the younger Gryffindor before her. She nodded, weakly smiling and spreading her legs still a little wider. As Hermione's fingers began setting a rhythm going steadily into Minerva's tight wetness, her tongue and lips still working miracles on the elder woman's clit, Minerva's hips soon began to pulse up in time with her thrusts, eventually meeting them one by one. As the feeling of bliss between her legs grew, the woman she loved filling her again and again as her tongue danced upon the most sensitive spot of her whole body, Minerva could no longer contain the spasms of her body and the cries of intense satisfaction that escaped between her labored panting. She could feel herself climb to something familiar and yet at the same time so unknown she doubted she had ever felt it before. Hermione responded in kind, adjusting the speed and angle of her thrusts and going slightly rougher upon Minerva's clit. Her panting only increased as Minerva felt herself go even higher, reaching for that… something and then she was there, jerking up hard and coming down again, her sheath clamping around Hermione's fingers with a viciousness she didn't know she could still muster after all these years of celibacy.

Hermione watched as Minerva's body slumped against the mattress, and she carefully retracted, lapping up the elder woman's juices and licking her fingers clean before sliding up and lying on her side beside Minerva, leaning her head on one hand, while tenderly stroking her cheek with the back of the other, a smile upon her lips. This was her first time being intimate with a woman but she seemed to have done well enough considering Minerva's reaction.

As Minerva's eyes opened, she fleetingly leaned down to kiss Minerva's shoulder in reassurance. Her green eyes were full of tears, and she seemed rather blown away by the force of her orgasm. Minerva reached up and clutched Hermione's hand within hers tightly. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied, lying her head down on Minerva's shoulder and cuddling up close to her, holding her as tears began rolling down over her cheeks as she tried to regain from her powerful orgasm. Hermione's hand moved to lay down upon the elder woman's heart, feeling it hammering still. "Have you never been made love to like this before?" Hermione questioned. She vaguely recalled her own reaction when Ron had touched her like this for the first time.

Minerva's head shook in response. She had been an Animagus for over half a decade and one of the disadvantages and possibly an advantage at the very same time – it kind of depended on the situation – was that she had slowly inherited cat traits in her human form as well. In fifty years she had heard a lot of things from both colleagues and pupils that weren't supposed to be heard about all kinds of subjects. She had heard about this thing called oral sex before, but had never been one to experience it. She had heard it was very awesome, and that surely had been right. "When I'm… back in…" Minerva began, still panting rather hard, "I would like… give you the same…"

"That's alright, Minerva."

"No, I want…"

Hermione leaned down to kiss her, making her shut up. "I know," she whispered, "but just focus on recuperating right now, okay? We have time enough. We have a whole lifetime."

Minerva leaned her head upon the younger witch's head, kissing it and smiling. "Indeed," she said. "We do."


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Hermione's shaky fingers clutched the midnight blue sheets tightly, as she inevitably jerked up into Minerva's touch and collapsed. She shuddered as Minerva easily wiped away her juices with her tongue, by running it up through Hermione's slit, purposefully lingering and tickling her clit. She then smiled, laying her head down on Hermione's belly, as she held onto the younger witch. She felt Hermione's fingers run through her hair and smiled that bit wider. "You've gotten rather good with that tongue, haven't you?" Hermione asked.

"Do you really mind?"

Hermione laughed, her belly going up and down. "Never."


End file.
